Folie à Deux (A Madness Shared By Two)
by prospectkiss
Summary: A nervous Edgeworth fled from Wright after an irrational act. Now he's returned to face the consequences.


_**Author's Notes:**_ The first distraction fic of the 2015 Big Bang season. This is for the lovely Martini, whose artwork inspired this story.

* * *

Edgeworth placed his traveling case on the floor outside the Wright &amp; Co. law offices. A moment later he picked it up again. Then he switched it from one palm to the other. Set it back down.

Felt his stomach rocket into his throat when it briefly wobbled, threatening to fall over.

He glared at it, wide-eyed, until it settled. The noise could have alerted any occupants that he stood outside, at bitter war with himself. His instinct was to run, to turn back down the hallway and forget he had ever instructed the taxi driver to bring him _here_ instead of his home or even his own office. What foolishness had overtaken him?

The same madness that kept him hovering at the threshold, that had convinced him to cut short his travels a day early.

It had been three weeks.

Heat rose to his cheeks. Three weeks since the world shifted, when he pressed his lips to Phoenix for the first time and dashed out of his office without waiting to see the expression on the other man's face, down twelve flights of stairs into the waiting airport shuttle. An act of bravery, of irrational impulse, had turned into one of cowardice, an escape before the inevitable awkward reproach of his boldness. The memory of warm breath had haunted him every night since, the fingers of one hand gently touching his lips, the other hand wrapped around his cellular, wanting to hear the voice across the ocean but hindered by the prospect of rejection.

Would Wright even want to see him again?

Steeling his nerves, he picked up his carry-on, drew in a steadying breath, and turned the handle.

The office was quiet. No one waited to greet him in the lobby, though voices drifted to him from further inside. Moving slowly, Edgeworth deposited his case on the coffee table and maneuvered around the client sofa to the open doorway at the back.

He saw Maya Fey, leaning over a desk and gesturing emphatically. Something about taking her cousin to a zoo? The topic was unimportant. His gaze quickly moved to the man seated across from her, who shook his head with a rueful smile on his lips.

Phoenix. Exactly as he had been three weeks ago.

Edgeworth froze, rooted to the spot, vainly attempting to calm his thudding pulse.

"Maya, I don't–" Wright halted.

Their eyes met over Maya's shoulder. His heart finally slowed, shuddering to a complete stop.

Maya, thinking she had made an opening, began pressing again, yammering on excitedly. But she no longer had Wright's attention.

"Edgeworth," he said softly, so quiet that only the movement of his mouth gave away his voice.

He felt his face flush once more. No – the blood was not rising to darken his face, but was rapidly departing, leaving him pale and ashen. The air grew heavy, thick with unspoken questions. His knuckles turned white, clenched tightly into his hand. No words passed his dry tongue.

He should not have come.

Some part of him was aware that Maya had straightened, staring at the figure in the doorway, head tilted in curiosity.

"Maya, go get some lunch," Wright said absently, handing over his billfold.

She eagerly snatched it up, but she must have sensed the tension, wavering between running for the exit and standing spectator to the potential drama. "W-What do you want?" she stalled.

"Anything. I don't care. Go nuts." Those eyes, so endlessly blue, never left his.

Unwilling to pass up the chance at free rein over Wright's wallet, Maya nodded. She ducked her head as she passed, squeezing around him like water.

The sound of the door slamming in the quiet that followed could have set off an avalanche.

"I thought you were coming back tomorrow," Wright finally said, breaking through the silence. But where Edgeworth had expected sharpness, his words were careful, almost delicate, and disbelieving.

"I – decided to come back early." How had he even responded? His own voice sounded strange to his ears, his head too busy deciphering Wright's expression: the slight furrow in his brow, mouth slightly agape.

The frown deepened. "You didn't call."

"I– " Whatever charm that had let him speak abruptly vanished, leaving him on a choked sound. He swallowed hard, throat bobbing painfully. He fought to keep his arms at his side, instead of clenching at his elbow.

He wanted to look away. He wouldn't.

_Neither did you_, he wanted to say. He didn't.

Wright rose, unfolding from the battered leather chair and stepping around the desk. He approached slowly, in measured steps. Wary.

Everything hung by a thread. Edgeworth could see it unravelling, spinning apart, the fragile tie between them fraying into nothing. All because Edgeworth could not keep himself in check. Because he let his senses take leave of him when confronted with those eyes and that smile and that boundless compassion. Except he had found the boundary.

He had misjudged not once but twice, his impulse and his foolishness and his madness spurring him to cross into unknown territory with disastrous results.

He should have gone straight to his home, packed his remaining belongings, and flown right back to Germany.

Wright stood at arm's length. He may as well have stood at the edge of the world.

"I missed you."

Edgeworth blinked, taken aback at the soft words.

All too quickly Phoenix rushed forward, hands reaching for him; one grasped his shoulder, the other slid low behind his back, pulling him close. Edgeworth had only a moment to register the erratic rhythm of his heart – _When had it started beating again?_ – and to draw in a sharp gasp.

To close his eyes.

Was this what Phoenix had felt, three weeks ago?

It only lasted a moment, an instant of unexpected warmth and irrevocable connection. And it stretched into an eternity.

The weight of the world fell from his shoulders as Phoenix leaned back. There was an anxious expression, questioning and uncertain. Blue eyes skittered back and forth between his own, searching.

He could have explained. Could have spilled all his worries, let them tumble out uncensored. But it wouldn't matter – he had his answer.

Edgeworth might have moved first. Perhaps Phoenix had. They came together again: a flurry of lips, warm breaths, low moans and twining limbs.

The madness was shared. And Edgeworth had never thrilled so much to be a fool in love.


End file.
